blueskysummer

  Outside, the Doctor stood at the altar. The sun was beginning to sink towards the horizon behind him, and he looked up at the reddening sky as he straightened his bowtie nervously (actually causing it to go more askew, but he didn’t notice). The ceremony was set directly behind the mansion, so that the processional could make a proper entrance through the double doors, and so that the Doctor wouldn’t see his bride until it was time for her to walk up the isle. The music started, and the mother of the bride made her way up the isle. She held her head tall, but all the Doctor could think of was seeing her at her own wedding, wh

 They were getting married today. Today, they were getting married. The thought went through both of their minds in every possible wording and arrangement (and every possible language for the Doctor). And both of them couldn’t help but grin madly at that thought. The Doctor, for one, was so excited that he at one point phoned Rose, telling her that he needed to hear her voice before he ran through a wall to find her. She insisted on him not seeing her before the ceremony, which she reminded him was a human custom. In response to his complaints and begging, she compromised, sitting with her back to a door, him on the other side, and ta

 Suddenly the Tyler house was aflutter with wedding plans. Jackie and Rose bent over books full of color samples and venues, putting post-its (stolen from the Doctor’s never ending supply) on things they wanted to replicate or details they gushed over. Cakes were tasted, caterers were scrutinized, invitations sent to everybody and their cousin.  Pete took Tony and the Doctor to get proper tuxedos (the Doctor initially argued that his blue suit would do just fine, but Jackie practically had a heart attack about it, screeching that it would clash with the color scheme of the wedding), while Rose took her mother with her to look at dresses

“Properly.” She was forced to put down the plate she was drying in fear it would slip through her fingers in her surprise He was watching her wash dishes, sitting backwards in a kitchen chair with his chin atop his interlaced fingers. They had been discussing this and that, not really anything important. They had the rest of their lives to discuss important things. They’d decided without saying it out loud to space them out a bit. Apparently, he’d decided it was time to drop an important thing into the conversation. It’d been a week or so. Enough time for her to lose track of the exact time to the second and sta

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi! You and the stranger both like Sherlock. You: I'm not dead. Dinner? -SH Stranger: Is this supposed to be a joke? -JW You: I know you're angry, John. I can explain everything. -SH Stranger: Then start explaining. -JW You: Three snipers. One for Mrs. Hudson. One for Lestrade. One for you. It was Moriarty's endgame. Three snipers and one way to call them off, John. I had to do what I did. -SH Stranger: But, how are you alive? -JW Stranger: I saw you die. I even checked your pulse. -JW You: Molly Hooper, mainly. And good luck and a bit of pre-planning. -SH You: A rubber ball clenched i

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi! You and the stranger both like Sherlock, and Wholock. You: Eh, oh! Is this how it works? Hello, is Sherlock there? -D Stranger: Who is this? -SH You: Oh, don't be obtuse, it doesn't suit you. It's the Doctor! We've met, right? Or did I get too early...? -D Stranger: I had an imaginary friend called the Doctor when I was younger...This wouldn't happen to be Mycroft, would it? -SH You: No, I'm not your mean older brother. It's the same one, the one from when you were little. Hello! -D You: If you want proof, the first time I met you, you were dressed like a pirate. You called me 'Matee.

Gone, Forgotten, Left Behind Wholock Prologue The door opened. The woman looked up to see a worn, tired John Watson half-limp, half-stumble out. A cheery voice called out from the room he had just vacated. "Same time next week, John! Remember to call if you have any more 'episodes', hm?" John turned, leaning against the doorframe to give the man within a polite smile as an answer before closing the door behind himself. The woman was clever enough to wait for the door to be closed and John to continue a few steps before she spoke. "Another rough session?" She spoke in a half-whisper, still wary of the man behind the door. She offere

What would you do? No. Don't answer. Because you wouldn't do what I would. You don't have the same rules I do. You don't know, you CAN'T… What would you do? Really. I hate them. More than I hate anything else in the universe. More than any creature can ever hate anything… Wait. I lied. There is one hatred stronger than mine. It's the hatred they have for me. For me. For anything not them, really, but especially for me. The Predator, they call me. At first I was insulted. And then I understood. Because I hate them. And that hate, the hate that stems from theirs, that hate pushes me to destroy them. To hunt them. I am

 "JOHN!" The army doctor hit his head on the bottom of the sink. He swore, rocking out of his position. He'd been fetching a bottle of cleaner from beneath the bathroom sink when he'd heard the shout. After a moment to curse his flatmate's horrible timing, his mind began running through all the worst-case-scenarios and all of the ridiculous things Sherlock could be doing simultaneously. "What?" he called, rubbing the back of his skull. "Sherlock?" "JOHN I AM IN NEED OF IMMEDIATE ASSISTANCE!" "What!" Watson yelled, peering out of the door and trying to pinpoint the location of the shout. "FOR CHRISSAKES JUST COME HERE NOW!" The shout

 "You mean four." The man's black eyes snapped open. They flicked towards the blonde man and observed him dangerously – a predator observing prey. Prey who just questioned his right as a predator. "What did you say?" "You said three," the other man said around a cigarette. "You meant four." "Do you think I would say something and not mean it? If I said three I meant three." "This morning you said you'd put a bullet through my skull for waking you up." "And I have every intention to as soon as the motivation hits me," the man pressed his palms into his eyes, sighing. "So, you think four. Go on, enlighten me. What've I missed?"